TWAIN'S LECTURE.
-- Mark Twain, (Clemens,) held forth to a full house in Rouse's
Opera House last evening. The house was a full as comfort would
allow. His subject, "The American Vandal Abroad," suggested
something of reproof, but the wit and humor that tempered the
speech made every one forget everything but that. The public owe
the lecture committee thanks for providing for them such an
entertainment. They have begun well. Let them keep on in the ways
of well doing and they will find their account in the full houses
and plethoric treasury which will be secured them. We give them
credit for one.

Mark Twain's Lecture.

The second regular lecture of the Library Course was
delivered, last evening, by Samuel Clemens, popularly known as
"Mark Twain," the humorist, who became known to the public a few
years ago as a correspondent of the Alta Californian of
San Francisco, and who is now employed on the editorial staff of
the New York Tribune. His subject was "The American Vandal
Abroad."

He was introduced by E.W. Coy. The lecturer accompanied the
Quaker City expedition to the Bermudas, Paris, the Crimea,
Constantinople, Palestine, and various points on the
Mediterranean sea.

It did not exactly embarrass him to be introduced in this
public manner, but it did remind him of those European guides who
brought out every old relic and described it with a trite story
and who if interrupted were obliged to begain again at the
beginning. After the party learned the distinguishing
characteristics of these guides, they all determined to affect as
much imbecility as possible and they were equal to the task. The
surgeon of the ship was capable of asking the stupidest questions
without moving a muscle. One guide showed the handwriting of
Columbus. The Dr. inquired who he was, if he was dead, if his
parents were dead, and informed the dumbfounded guide that plenty
of boys in America could beat that, and if he had any good
respectable penmanship, let him bring it on. After conducting
them through the Vatican without eliciting any remarks of
surprise, the poor guide showed a mummy, one of the most
remarkable and best preserved. The Dr., true to his calling,
inquired, "What did you remark that his name was? How calm and
placid! Is he dead?"

The true American vandal is not remarkably well versed in
sciences, arts and antiquities, but is sure to be perfectly at
home anywhere, and is bound to be surprised at everything and
extract wonders from the most trifling objects. He will half
smoke himself to death in trying to smoke a long-stemmed pipe
a la Turk, but will swear it good. He will go into
ecstasies over the insufferable horrors of a Turkish bath, though
he is thinking the while that he shall never live to come out. He
will bandy words with the cockney soldier about the
impregnability of Gibraltar. He will stand unabashed in the
presence of one Pope, two or three Kings and Grandees
innumerable, and will stand unawed, unsubdued, and pick his teeth
before the venerable, time-honored, time-defying placid face of
the Sphinx.

Such an irrepressible vandal was that surgeon of the ship, who
pretended to be a doctor and perhaps he was, for he could handle
more unpronounceable Greek and Latin technical terms, than any
sensible man on earth. The surgeon was called upon by the
captain's son to prescribe for a horizontal parralax.

The true home of the vandal is Paris. He drinks champagne in
large quantities, attends all the plays, weeps when the crowd
weeps, and spats and stamps when other people do the same, though
he cannot tell the dialogue from the scenery. He learns to talk
French so well in six weeks that he is constantly abusing the
Parisians for not knowing their own language. He knew one, who,
on his return, failed to answer the salutations of his friends,
he had become so familiar with his adopted name that he found it
difficult to recognize his original one.

After doing Paris he generally goes to Genoa to see the
birth-place of Columbus and get a stone from the very house where
he was born. It has been estimated that all the stones taken from
that house, if collected, would build one 14,000 feet long and
16,000 feet high.

He generally takes mementoes from each place. One of the party
succeeded well till getting to the Crimea. Nothing could be found
but the hip bone of a horse. The traveler captured it and
labelled it "the jaw of a Russian General." Travelers' labels are
not always reliable. They found a work of art which represented a
man being skinned alive. It was wonderfully life like; it had
such an expression! A man skinned alive would be apt to give his
attention to that particular work -- unless his attention
happened to be called some other way. It wasn't pleasant to view
works of that nature; one is apt to dream about it afterwards.
Still it reminded him of a scene in early life. He was required
to sleep in his father's office, and one evening, as the moon was
rising, he thought he was almost sure there was something on the
floor of the room. He felt a little curious to know -- didn't
feel anxious -- kept watching and discovered the white features
of a dead man! He had been brought there to have sentence passed
upon him -- that is an inquest -- and he was found guilty! He
never felt so sick in all his life, never felt so much like
taking a walk. He didn't feel in a hurry, not in the least
agitated, but he went out of the window, took the sash with him,
not that he wanted anything of the sash, but it seemed very
convenient to take it along.

The vandal visits Venice that has existed as a republic for
1400 years, and laughs to scorn the armies and navies of the
world. Here is where Shylock used to loan money on human flesh --
and other collaterals. Here he hears the song of the romantic
gondolier. The lecturer heard the song of the romantic gondolier;
let him sing about four minutes, and suppressed him and did a
good job. His private opinion is, though he hates to oppose Byron
and such, but his private opinion is, that the gondolier is a
humbug -- as a singer. But not too fast. It is grand to glide
down street in a gondola instead of a street car. Business men
step out, put on their gloves, and glide down to their counting
rooms. The ladies kiss good-bye, play all the secret deceptions
of the sex in our own land, but keep the gondolier waiting
instead of the private carriage. The go shopping just the same
and compel the poor clerks to lay down tons of silks, bombazines,
corduroys and the like, and then buy a paper of pins and have it
sent home by the errand boy. Ladies there, are the same angels as
at home, have dresses cut "bias," and have their back hair held
up by a crupper just the same way.

The old doctor wanted to see Scylla and Charybdis. He was up
at night with his everlasting spyglass. Some one asked what he
wanted, "Wanted," said he, "man you do not know me! I want to see
all the places mentioned in the Bible!" Explanation was made, and
he exclaimed, "There's another night's rest gone. I thought it
was Sodom and Gomorrah."

The vandal finally spreads himself abroad to Athens. He
approaches the grand old city in its silence, as it lies at his
feet as if seen from a balloon. Nowhere else in the world can
another such picture be seen. He would digress to tell an
anecdote, because he might forget it and because it had a moral.
One of the party on board the Quaker City had a chronic habit of
speech-making; it was natural, he could not help it. They sat in
their tent one evening in the holy land and our speech-maker
called the attention of a sailor to the mountains in the
distance: "There, Jack, is the Mountain of Moab. For ought we
know you may now be resting your eyes on the very spot of the
mysterious grave of Moses." "Moses who?" said Jack. "Why, you
ignorant booby! Moses led the children of Israel through the
wilderness, 300 miles in forty years." "In forty years!" said
Jack;. "Why, Ben Holliday would have put them through in
forty-eight hours!"

It was a singular sight to stand before the Emperor of all the
Russias; a plain, common spoken man, dressed in no better clothes
than any of them; probably had no better. He might open his
mouth, and ships would depart on his errands, armies collect for
his service, a thousand trains fly at his bidding; yet his
cordiality was sincere and he stood the only European monarch who
welcomed them in their true capacity, as American sovereigns. He
spoke of this, because the Emperor is the only true friend we
have among the monarchs of the other side of the water. He felt
on first-rate terms with Alexander. Alexander gave him freedom to
scatter himself around at pleasure and leave just when he
pleased. He showed that he was possessed of a heart, rather an
uncommon thing for monarchs to have.

His passages descriptive of the Sphinx, a moonlight ride in
Venice, and the appearance of Athens from the surmounting
eminence, were really eloquent and finished. He is unmistakably a
man of high natural ability and considerable culture, and could
not fail to make his mark in other than his chosen themes. As a
satirist and humorist, he places no dependence upon uncouth
spelling or local vernacular. He has an easy, don't-carative
manner and a little of the swagger of the traditional Yankee
joker without a single low or ungrammatical phrase.